


Sous La Lune

by nerdypipsqueak



Series: Fictober 2019 [10]
Category: Lawrence of Arabia (1962), Real Person Fiction
Genre: Angst, Fictober 2019, M/M, Phases of the Moon, Time Travel, brief non-explicit discussion of torture and rape, magic time travelling fog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 13:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20995490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdypipsqueak/pseuds/nerdypipsqueak
Summary: Fictober prompt: “Listen, I can’t explain it, you’ll have to trust me.”Another self-indulgent piece, this time inspired by a quote from an interview with David Lean: "As to the suggestion that the film is pervasively homoerotic, he says: "Yes. Of course it is. Throughout. I'll never forget standing there in the desert once, with some of these tough Arab buggers, some of the toughest we had, and I suddenly thought, 'He's making eyes at me!' And he was! "So it does pervade it, the whole story, and certainly Lawrence was very if not entirely homosexual. We thought we were being very daring at the time: Lawrence and Omar, Lawrence and the Arab boys."I thought it was an interesting little mistake: Lawrence and Omar instead of Lawrence and Ali. And it just took off from there.I mean no disrespect. If I offended anyone with this story I sincerely apologize.





	1. Full Moon

**"(...) certainly Lawrence was very if not entirely homosexual. We thought we were being very daring at the time: Lawrence and Omar (...)"**   
**David Lean**

_Full moon_

"Fred, Fred, come on, you've got to see this." Peter shakes me roughly by the shoulder.

"What is it?" 

"I'm not sure. I can't explain it but it looks interesting. Come on, trust me."

"Peter, are you high?" I ask just to make sure. He looks fine, costumed and made-up but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

"I haven't even had a drink yet." Peter gives me a reproachful look and hauls me to my feet, dragging me off past Lawrence's Spring and into a nearby cave.

The inside of the cave is spacious, like a sandy cathedral. It's also very cool, a welcome relief from the sweltering heat outside. There's carvings on one of the walls, primitive figures of humans and camels. I would love to examine them a little closer but Peter's too impatient for that, he's pulling me towards the darkest end of the cave where...

"What the hell is that?" I ask, shocked. There's a thick, milky-white mist collecting in that corner, swirling but still at the same time. It looks like candyfloss.

"I don't know." Peter says. "But if you stand close enough you can hear voices."

"I think you've had a heat stroke."

"No!" He protests. "I swear to God, if you stand right next to it you can hear voices and... and sounds."

"Yeah, right." I mutter.

"For fuck's sake" Peter pushes me hard, right into the mist. It's painfully, icily cold and in shock I grab at Peter, pulling him with me. The mist is swirling around us, incredibly fast and cold, forcing us close to one another, spinning us round and round...  
And all of a sudden everything stops. The motion, the cold, the cloudy whiteness, all of it stops. My head though is still spinning. My knees give way and I sink to the floor of the cave, pulling Peter with me.

"Fuck that." He mutters, slumping against me. "I feel like something ate me, then puked me out and then ate me again."

"Fantastic. Now get up, you're not exactly comfortable." I nudge him in the ribs. "Come on, David's going to kill us if we're late."

Peter scrambles to his feet and heads towards the cave's opening. I sit back and close my eyes. My insides are shaking like they're made of jelly and my knees are weak. I can hear the blood rushing through my veins, a sickening whoosh. 

"Fred!" Peter screams from the mouth of the cave, his voice so full of panic that I immediately forget how bad I feel. I'm running, tripping over my robe and my own feet, so fast that I almost crash into Peter, who's standing a mere foot away from the cave, his hands raised in surrender.

"What?!" I hiss at him. He doesn't say anything, just jerks his head sideways, in the direction of the Spring. I turn to look and instantly my still shaking insides freeze. There's a man sitting on the far edge of the Spring. He's naked, save for a white thawb, which he's clutching against his pale body in a desperate attempt to cover himself. He's obviously been bathing, judging by the droplets of water clinging to his skin. In his other hand the man is holding a gun, pointing it at me and Peter. That gun should be my biggest worry but it's not. What concerns me far more than the gun is the fact that I recognize that man. 

That Peter is playing that man in a movie in which I happen to be his co-star.

That that man has been dead for years.

That he looks very much alive and probably not a day older than twenty-nine.

"They came out of the cave next to the spring."

"Out of the mist, you mean?"

"That's what they said, Auda. There was a thick, white mist, apparently they stepped into it and found themselves here."

"I told you, Aurens. Strange things happen in that cave. Strange beings come and go as does the mist...

"I know, I know. It comes and goes with the moon. But..."

"You saw it with your own two eyes. I showed you myself. You saw the mist and now you have two creatures that came out of it. What more do you need to convince you that it's real?!"

"Auda, for the love of God! They're men, not creatures and I did not physically witness them stepping out of the mist."

"But you saw them come out of the cave, did you not?!"

"Yes but that proves nothing! For all I know they could be spies."

"You English are fools." The man called Auda strides towards us and cracks Peter across the shoulder with his camel stick. "Do some magic. Prove who you are to the Englishman!"

"What was that for?!" Peter cries out in startled pain.

"He wants you to do a magic trick." I translate. "He thinks we're supernatural beings."

"I'll show him a magic fucking trick." Peter grumbles. "Come here, Englishman."

Reluctantly, the Englishman steps closer.

"There's something behind your ear." Peter makes an elaborate gesture right beside the man's head and produces a coin. "See? Magic!"

"I told you, Auda. They're just men." The Englishman plucks the coin from Peter's hand and starts toying with it. "Now we need to determine which side..."

The Englishman pauses and lifts the coin to the sunlight. His eyes dart between me, Peter and the threepence in his hand. They're beautiful, those eyes, blue, like Peter's but a different, slightly darker shade. They're very expressive too and I find myself strangely drawn to them.

"What is it?" Auda asks.

"I'll handle it. In private." The Englishman tells him. "Can you please find Ali and let him know we have intruders?"

As soon as Auda is gone the Englishman throws the coin at Peter. "What on Earth is this?!"

"A threepence." 

"Please read the year of issue."

"Nineteen fifty-five."

"The current year is nineteen seventeen..."

"Listen." Peter interrupts him. "I know this sounds crazy but we really came out of the mist that's in that cave over there. In our time it's nineteen sixty-one. We walked into that mist and somehow we ended up here. I can't explain it but that's the truth and you'll have to trust us."  
The Englishman studies him for a long minute then turns to look at me, piercing me with those fantastically blue eyes. Finally he extends a hand. "Major Lawrence."

"Omar Sharif." I take the proffered hand. It's warm and soft, except for a few calluses created by guns and camel reins.

"Omar. Sharif." He repeats slowly, as if tasting my name. "Nobody in the world is called Omar Sharif."

"That's what I said." Peter interjects. "I call him Fred. I'm Peter, by the way. Peter O'Toole."

"And you say you came from the year nineteen sixty-one?"

"Yeah. We're making a film about you. I'm actually supposed to... to be you."

"Of course you are." Lawrence laughs. "To be quite honest I'm not surprised that someone like you..." 

The rest of his sentence is drowned in uncontrollable laughter. Peter cocks a perplexed eyebrow at me.

"The major finds David's casting choices amusing." I tell him. 

"I'm so sorry." Lawrence gasps for breath. "By no means am I laughing at you personally. It doesn't surprise me at all that the film industry would choose someone as attractive as you to play someone as plain as me."

All of a sudden I find that I want to protest. Lawrence is not plain. He's not conventionally attractive either but undoubtedly he is beautiful. There's something about him, I can't quite place it but I am drawn to him and it confuses me. I've never been interested in men. Of course I can appreciate beauty, be it female or male. But I've never been attracted to another man the way I am attracted to Thomas Edward Lawrence.

He looks at me and I get this odd feeling that he can see into my very soul. I have to look away, it's so disconcerting.

"According to Auda the mist comes and goes with the full moon." Lawrence turns his focus to Peter. "We had a full moon last night so if you hurry you might still be able to return to your time."

"Looks like we're stuck then." I say. "The mist disappeared right after we got here."

"Oh shit." Peter whispers. "David's going to kill us."

I can't sleep. The camp is quiet, save for the singing coming from the British officers' tents. Peter's with them, they've got gin and cigarettes and he's been swindling them out of both. He has a way of charming people into doing what he wants them to do. I could kill him. He's the one who got us into this pickle after all.

I wander aimlessly around the camp for a while before heading towards the cave. I know the mist is gone, I saw it disappear but still I want to make sure. I can't believe we got ourselves literally stuck in the past.

Lawrence is sitting a few feet away from the mouth of the cave, wrapped in a thick black cloak not unlike the one that is part of my costume.

"Sleepless night?" He asks. 

"Yes."

"I can't sleep either. You're welcome to sit with me if you like. The stars are really lovely tonight." He moves over a little and I lower myself onto the sand beside him. In the distance Peter is drunkenly teaching the officers that silly song about the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.

"He pushed me." I say.

"Hm?" Lawrence shifts sideways so he can look at me.

"Peter." I gesture towards the camp. "He says we walked into the mist but the truth is he pushed me, I grabbed him because I was not prepared to go down alone and the rest is history, you might say."

"Peter's a handful, isn't he?"

"He can be a pain in the arse." I nod. Lawrence laughs softly.

"What's it like?" He asks. "The future?"

The question strikes me dumb. I have to be careful with this. If I tell him too much I may change the course of history and God knows how that could impact my life and Peter's.

"Fast." I settle for what is probably the safest option. "Fast cars, fast trains, fast motorcycles. Coloured photos, coloured films, loud music."

"Jazz?"

"That too. There's lots of young musicians messing about with guitars and drums. I don't think you would like it."

"And what about the war?"

"War's over." I decide to omit the Second World War. I don't want to upset him. Also, I'm not sure how him knowing about the war might affect the future. 

"But you can't tell me anything more because you're afraid that my knowing about it might have an impact on the future." He must have picked up on my worry. He is very perceptive, very bright and that only makes me admire him more. "That's fair enough. I shouldn't have put you in this position. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's perfectly normal to be curious."

"I do apologize for pointing a gun at you earlier today."

"I understand. This is a war zone after all and you were in a quite... umm... vulnerable position."

"That's a very polite way of describing it." 

"Do you actually believe us?"

Lawrence sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I don't know, Omar. The only other explanation for your presence in that cave is that you and your friend are spies. In which case I would have to send you to Cairo and your fate would be completely out of my hands."

"Which means we could get killed."

"Potentially, yes." 

"The major has a horror of bloodshed." The words slip out of my mouth like I've got no control over it.

"What was that?!"

"A line from the film me and Peter are making. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you."

"Don't worry. I like it. It's accurate." Lawrence moves again, adjusting himself and I shift too so I can see him better. "Tell me more about that film of yours."

"It's going to be very long, the script is huge. It is epic. Wide landscape shots, explosions, camels, horses, plenty of extras..."

"Is there any romance?"

"Excuse me?!"

"People seem extremely concerned about my romantic life. The amount of speculation is unbelievable. So I'm quite curious about your director's approach to the matter."

"Well..." I hesitate. "You get me. My character is called Sherif Ali of the Harith."

"Oh. Oh my." He lets out a surprised little giggle.

"It's nothing explicit." I reassure him quickly. "It can't be. There's a code of conduct in place. It says what filmmakers can and can't show on screen. Something like this is a big no. So it's more of an... an undercurrent if you will. But David, the director, is adamant that he wants my character and you to be lovers."

Lawrence leans back against the stone wall behind us, tilting his head upwards. "How fascinating, I actually know a Sherif Ali of the Harith. It's good to know that he is remembered in the future. Can I tell you something in confidence?"

"Absolutely."

"I am aware of Ali's... affection for me. He is a very attractive young man and I would love to be able to reciprocate, to make him happy. But I can't."

"How so?"

"I can't act solely on physical attraction. And anyway there is very little that I can give him in terms of physicality."

"What do you mean?"

"I feel that if we don't have an emotional, spiritual connection then we simply cannot..."

"I understand." I say although I'm not entirely sure I do.

"Thank you, Omar." Lawrence smiles warmly. "You are very easy to confide in, you know? I should probably be worried by how willingly I bare my soul to you."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."


	2. New Moon

_New moon_

_"_These are gorgeous." Ned runs a finger along the contours of an engraved camel.

"How old do you think they are?" I ask. I have a rough idea but Ned gets so sweetly enthusiastic about archaeology and antiquities and I love seeing him like that.

"I'm not too sure, I've not practised as an archaeologist for years now. But I think these may have been carved anytime between the 6th and 4th centuries before Christ. Just look at them! Camels, horses, human figures. A description of everyday life. The person who carved them may well have lived in this cave."

"You have stars in your eyes." I say.

"Oh?" Ned turns away from the carvings and looks at me.

"Your eyes shine when you get excited." I tell him. He smiles, embarrassed, and heads deeper into the cave, walking so close to me that his robe brushes against mine. 

We've been playing this game of little compliments, lingering glances and not-quite-touching for a while now. We're both new to this, my only experiences were with women and Ned... well, Ned has no experience whatsoever.  
We spend a lot of time talking. I am in awe with his brilliant mind, his sharp wit. I thought I knew him because I'd read his book but there's so much more to him than what's in that book! Some of the men have their families with them. Ned spends hours fixing the children's toys for them. He's very good with kids, they trust him, tell him their little secrets. How I would love to see him with my own son!

"Omar! Omar, you need to see this." Ned points towards the far corner of the cave. It's full of thick, milky-white, candy-floss-like mist.

"It's back." Ned whispers.

"It is." I whisper back.

"You and your friend can go back home."

"Yes, we can." Ice-cold dread trickles down my spine and I realise that I don't want to go.

"Omar, I have something for you. I was going to give it to you later but I suppose now would be the right moment." Ned reaches into the pocket of his robe and pulls out a photograph. "Mr Thomas took it in Aqaba, I thought you might like it."

It's an unposed photo, just Ned, captured mid-stroll (or so I guess), smiling, surprised at having his picture taken. It's so unlike the posed photos I'd seen when I was preparing for filming. He looks so happy in that photo...

"It's lovely. I wish I had something I could give you in return." I say as I pocket the picture. "You know, something to remember me by."

"I could never forget you, Omar Sharif." Ned smiles sadly. "Let me fetch Peter."

And he's gone.

Peter almost screams with delight when he sees the mist. "Home! Finally! We can go back, Fred, we can go back!"

"You came here during a full moon so it would be safe to assume that you would be able to return during new moon." Ned tries to sound calm but I can hear a slight tremble in his voice, an undercurrent of sorrow.

"Well. It was a pleasure to meet you in person, Major." Peter shakes Ned's hand. "We'll be on our way."

As they say their goodbyes I find myself rooted to the spot, mind racing. I'd vowed not to tell Ned too much about the future but there is one thing that's troubling me, one thing that I can't just let be.

"Ned." I take him by the shoulders, gently propelling him to one side. "I need you to listen to me."

"Yes, Omar?" He looks up at me with those beautiful, _beautiful_ blue eyes and instantly I feel my own welling up with tears.

"Listen carefully, Ned." I cup his face in my hands. "I know that in a month or so you will be heading towards Deraa. I can't explain how I know this but you have to trust me. You will go to Deraa and when you go there... Ned, you are so, so strong, so brave. And in Deraa you will need all your strength and courage. And remember, even if I'm miles, years away, I will always be with you, wherever you go."

"Omar." His voice is little more than a whisper.

"I know." I kiss his forehead.

"Go." He sounds choked up now, his eyes are swimming with tears. I kiss his forehead one more time, then turn away and head into the mist.

"David! I found them!" Freddie yells. "Where the hell were you? You were gone for hours!"

"Hours? We were gone for weeks!" Peter says, perplexed.

"Weeks?! Are you high? What are you on about?"

"You will never believe me."


	3. Full Moon, Many Years Later

_Full moon, many years later_

May is supposed to be a warm, pleasant month, a smooth passage between Spring and Summer. Well, not in England. It's cold and wet, it hasn't stopped raining since I arrived. Only now it's more of a drizzle than a downpour.

I buy a single red rose and head towards the graveyard. I haven't been here for at least a couple of years but I have no trouble finding my way, hardly anything has changed around here.

There's a black and white cat sitting in front of the graveyard gate. As soon as I open it she darts in, then turns and stares at me with disdain, waiting. The moment I catch up with her she's off again and I know exactly where she's heading.

"Hello, Ned." I crouch in front of his grave. "I'm so sorry I couldn't come last year. Or the year before. Or the year before that. It's no excuse but I was very busy. I've not forgotten you, I hope you know that."

The cat starts rubbing against my legs, almost upsetting my balance. 

"Stop it." I scold her. She stretches out on the ground beside me and starts washing her tummy, a picture of perfect innocence.

"Ned, not a day goes by that I don't think about you." I carefully place the rose across the pages of the stone book at the foot of his grave. "I still have that picture you gave me. Right here, in my pocket. I'd get it out but it's raining and I don't want to ruin it. Sleep now, sleep peacefully and I will come back next year, I promise."

I straighten up and make my way towards the gate, the cat hot on my heels. Then something catches my eye. A white mist, thick and similar to candy-floss, swirling between two arched trees. 

That's impossible, I think to myself. I've only ever seen a mist like this once, many years ago in Wadi Rum. 

All of sudden I'm running, I need to reach it immediately, no, I need to reach it yesterday, make sure that it's real, that it's there. I run straight into it and it swallows me whole.  
It's cold and fast, exactly as I remembered. When it all comes to an abrupt halt I am ready and manage not to fall over. 

Once more I am in the graveyard, only it seems bigger, emptier. I glance over my shoulder and notice almost immediately that Ned's plot is empty. That can only mean one thing.

I leave the graveyard and head for the main road. It's empty and eerily quiet, except for the distant rumbling of what I suppose to be tanks. Thankfully it's not raining, I don't think I could handle the emptiness AND the rain. 

"'Morning." A young man on a bicycle passes me.

"'Morning." I answer.

"Lovely day." The man says conversationally. There's a basket hanging from the handlebar of his bike, right beneath his hand.

"Sure is. Where are you heading?"

"To meet a friend. I was running an errand for him. You?"

"Same. Minus the errand."

"You're not from around here, are you?" The man asks.

"No."

"Pat." He gets off his bike.

"Omar."

"Definitely not from around here." He shakes my hand. "Are you one of Mr Shaw's friends?"

"Yeah, you could say that."

We chat as we walk, just small talk. Once again I have to be very careful what I say. Of course he asks how I know "Mr Shaw" and I tell him a very general "we met during the war" type of story. He doesn't question it or ask for any details and I'm grateful for that. I wouldn't know what to tell him.

We take a turn into a dirt path. It's very peaceful and secluded, plenty of trees and greenery shielding this tiny road from the main one.

Pat pauses. "Do you hear that?"

I stop too and listen carefully. Finally I pick up what sounds like a motorcycle engine.

"That's him." Pat says. "Best we move to the side. He rides like the devil."

My stomach feels like it's full of butterflies, my skin is tingling with anticipation. Finally, the motorcycle pulls into the dirt path, slows down and comes to a halt right beside us.

"What a lovely day!" Ned removes his goggles and wipes dust off his face. "How are you, Pat?"

"I'm fine, Mr Shaw, thank you. You've got a visitor."

"Oh? I wasn't..." Ned looks at me at freezes mid-sentence, eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

"Mr Shaw?" Pat's demeanour instantly changes. "Is everything alright? Should I make the gentleman leave?"

"No, no, everything's fine. I'm surprised, that's all. Did you get what I asked for?"

"Yes sir! Tea, not the one in bags, apples, oranges, dog biscuits. Joyce put in two cheese sandwiches, two bacon ones and some toffees."

"That's perfect, thank you." Ned pulls out a coin and hands it to Pat who almost gags.

"This is too much, Mr Shaw!"

"Keep it, get Joyce something nice. You can tell her it's from me. Off you go now, I'll see you later."

"Let me take that." I reach for the basket. Pat passes it to me somewhat reluctantly, gets on his bicycle and heads off towards the main road. We're left in the middle of the path, Ned still firmly seated on his motorcycle, with me looming over him. He's older than when I last saw him but he's hardly changed. 

"Shall we? I have a cottage just over there." Ned glances to the his left. "But you would probably know that. You seem to know an awful lot about me."

"I only know what you chose to reveal about yourself in your books." I say.

Ned doesn't answer, instead he starts his motorcycle and slowly we make our way down the path.

"How did you know about Deraa?" Ned asks, breaking the heavy silence that's been hanging between us since we entered his cottage. He's peeling oranges for us, they smell heavenly, like sunshine, holidays, happiness.

"I read about it in your book." I answer without hesitation.

"You know it didn't happen that way? I... you have to understand, what they did to me, what... what they made me do is not something that can be discussed in polite company. I revealed as much as I could bear."

"I understand." I say. "I think it was very brave of you to include that in your book."

"I had to. I couldn't not. It's part of who I am now."

"I know."

"I thought about you when they were... when they were beating me. I thought about the way your hands felt on my cheeks. It may well have been the only thing that kept me from losing my mind."

"Oh God, Ned..."

"There was not a day that I didn't think about you, that I didn't wonder what could have been." Ned smiles wistfully. "It was fanciful but without it I would have been long dead. Anyway. How did you get here?"

"Same way as last time."

"Oh? Dorset's a long way from Wadi Rum." Ned puts down the last peeled orange and edges closer to me.

"I wasn't in Wadi Rum. I was here, in Moreton. Please don't be alarmed but I was visiting your grave."

"So in your time I'm dead?"

"Yes and I try my best to visit your grave every year. I bring you a rose, I talk to you. Then I go home and think about what could have been." I shift a little closer. "This year there was a mist between two trees in the graveyard."

"We had a full moon last night." Ned says matter-of-factly.

"So what's that? Two weeks till the new moon?"

"Give or take a few days?"

"Plenty of time to catch up, talk, maybe make up for all the time we lost?"

"That sounds like a perfectly reasonable plan." Ned smiles and pops a slice of orange in his mouth.


End file.
